[M] Snatched from Marvel

[Deadpool]

* * *

Dawn had not struck yet, but the group of mutants—

Bob isn’t a mutant. He’s just some guy.

—began to wake up.

Wolverine had awoken first, perking his head up. He had slept in the same position that he had been in earlier—hunched over, forearms resting on his knees. He made an unnoticeable groan and then slowly opened his eyes. As he started to motion to get up, Sabertooth dropped down from a tree branch that he had called his bed for the night, and landed on his feet (a cat always does). His pupils were still dilated—big and bold. They locked eyes for a moment, and for a moment—though brief—almost mistook each other for the enemies they truly were, but they both immediately controlled themselves.

Bob let out a loud, longwinded yawn as he stretched his arms out as wide as he could, almost as if to hug his large spouse. He was not accustomed to waking up so early in the morning (couldn’t have been later than 6 AM or so). He got up off of the log he had slept on and walked over to the log Deadpool was still laying on. “You wake?”

The mercenary rolled over, throwing a leg out like a kickstand to catch his imminent fall, and looked at Bob with bloodshot eyes. “W-W-Wolverine snores through h-h-his nose,” he stuttered out. ”I-It’s a whining, raspy s-s-sound, like a cat in heat.”

“Get up Deadpool,” Sabertooth hollered. “We have to go over the plan.” He then walked over to Wolverine and hunkered. “Let’s huddle up,” he remarked, Wolverine crouching down next to him.

The mercenary gradually sat up and rubbed his eyes with either hand. ”Why can’t you guys just come over here and huddle up. I’m already sitting down.”

Wolverine growled subtly, his upper-lip pulling back to expose those yellow teeth. “Stop being lazy,” he grumbled.

”I wasn’t lazy when I kicked the s*** out of you and Sabertooth, at the same time, in that crappy movie Marvel made for you to explain your past.” Deadpool pointed out. ”Y’know, with Hugh Jackman, the guy that was lead role in that crappy movie, Van Helsing?”

Sabertooth felt the tension growing, sprouted back up out of the two’s everlasting animosity with for another. “Calm down you two,” he interjected. He could not fathom how Wolverine and himself could tolerate each other—and they were the greatest of rivals—but Wolverine could not bear Deadpool. Perhaps it was Deadpool’s perpetual nature to crack jokes. He looked over at the mercenary and said, “Get over here.”

Deadpool slowly pushed himself off of the log and began to sluggishly make his way over to Sabertooth and Wolverine, Bob following behind. ”Fine, fine . . . Scorpion. I remember the times when you two couldn’t even be in the same state as one another,” he added, “chasing after each other like some type of homo-erotic story of revenge.” As he neared he got down onto one knee, level with Sabertooth and Wolverine. Bob stood behind him.

The sun was starting to rise, climbing over the mountaintops to the east; its milky, early morning light eased over the group’s campsite, only partially blotched by some tree shadows that were splattered across the rim of the clearing.

“Okay, this is how we’re going to infiltrate that compound,” Sabertooth began, drawing a blueprint into a soft part of soil. His dirty, long fingernail carved into the ground, forming a box. “Deadpool is going to initiate it all by sniping from afar, taking out the guards.” He punched a single hole into the ground with his nail, about a foot from the box. “Wolverine and I will then breach the compound, taking out anyone that Deadpool has missed—“

”I don’t miss,” Deadpool interrupted. ”Who the f*** you think I am, Bullseye?”

“What we gotta do, bub?” Wolverine inquired.

“We go into the compound,” Sabertooth continued, “taking out everyone else.” He drew a line with his fingernail, around and behind the box. “We go through the back entrance. That way we’ll have the entire perimeter secured once Deadpool makes his way back to us.”

“What if there is no back entrance?” Wolverine retorted. “What if there is no compound?”

“The information is reliable,” Sabertooth snarled. “One mile south of here. It’s there.”

“What about Kid Omega?” Bob asked, peeping over the shoulders of Wolverine and Deadpool to get a view of the blueprint. “Won’t he know what’s happening? From, well you know, his powers and all?”

“We make it fast,” Sabertooth assured. “Deadpool will have to be the main engager of attack with the ‘Kid himself. He’s the only one of us whose mind is already so distorted that it cannot be manipulated.”

"I’m going to take that as a compliment, even if it was a backhanded one. And also, I got a bone to pick with either Baron or Stan Lee, for making you suddenly so much more of a intellectual. Last time I remembered you were a barbarian. And yes, I used an ‘a’ instead of ‘an’ because that’s something that the you I REMEMBER would have done!”

“Right,” Sabertooth murmured. Most of Deadpool’s outbursts regarding ‘Marvel’ and ‘Stan Lee’, or anything else out-this-worldly, was hogwash to him. “Just make sure when you’re done sniping that you rendezvous back with us on the ground floor.”

“What’s my job?” Bob asked.

“Just stay at the camp,” Sabertooth replied. “We can always communicate with you through the walkie-talkies if you’re needed.”

Bob glanced down at the communicator latched onto his belt; he knew that he would never need to draw it from there (like Wolverine, Sabertooth, and Deadpool were going to need help; they were all maestros of regeneration). “Sure,” he said with doubt in his tone.

”Don’t worry buddy. I got a job for ya.” Deadpool looked over his shoulder at Bob. “”A rimjob.” He peeled back his mask some, sticking out his tongue; he flapped it back and forth, side-to-side, and twirled it around the edges of his mouth, spittle flinging from the tip of it.

Wolverine shook his head in disgust. The thought of Deadpool and Bob giving each other rimjobs was revolting, and almost sent him into quivers. He sunk his head down and quickly dug a hand into one of his cargo pockets. After a few seconds of his fingers wandering, he managed to pull out a single cigarette and a disposable lighter, putting the former between his closed lips and then lighting it with the latter, and as the flames rose up he took deep pull onto the cigarette. “I’m ready, Bub,” Wolverine informed Sabertooth, and then exhaled, letting out a burst of smoke, like an exhaust pipe when a car first starts. “When we gonna get to the action.” He took another drag on his fug.

“b]”SNIKT time is coming, my brother from another experiment,”[/b] Deadpool said as he grabbed the barrel of the sniper rifle harnessed to his back, swinging it around his shoulder and into his hands with one nimble motion. “I’ll find a nice location I can post up at, like Tim Duncan. That was an NBA reference, by the way, any of you watch that?” The group of men simply stared at Deadpool with a look of perplexity. “I guess I’m the only one out here with actual hobbies and interests. You guys are fun sponges.”

“We can start getting ready now, Wolverine,” Sabertooth replied, standing to his feet. He then began to walk into the depths of the woods, headed south.

Wolverine got up and followed, muttering “Finally” as he went. He took another long drag onto his cigarette; trail of smoke rolled over his shoulder and assimilated into the air.